


Kryptonite in Shades of Blue and Green

by Annehiggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:13:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annehiggins/pseuds/Annehiggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is the only member of the Winchester family without super-powers and has lived with the threat of being used against him all his life. When Dark Angel finally makes threat reality, Dean ends up trapping them together for two months. A lot can happen in two months. Written for <a href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/52163.html?thread=14010819#t14010819"> this prompt</a> on the spnkink_meme. WARNING: While I did everything in the story I could to make it clear this does not warrant the archives' rape/noncon warning, Dean is Cas' prisoner so consent, no matter how willingly portrayed, does have a unavoidable dubcon vibe. Since neither 'dubcon' nor 'bodice ripper' are among the site's warnings I opted for the 'Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kryptonite in Shades of Blue and Green

**Author's Note:**

> I loved this prompt and had to give it a go. I couldn't resist the nod to my next favorite Jensen series and didn't avoid the most obvious name for Cas' super-villain name.
> 
> BTW, in this world there are still comic book superheroes – Superman, Batman and Spider-man included – just as our world has real detectives and fictional; hence, all references to kryptonite are as fictional to these characters as to us.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/anne_higgins/pic/0000p7gg/)

**Kryptonite in Shades of Blue and Green**  
By Anne Higgins

Dean Winchester learned many things when he hit puberty. First and foremost in his mind was the confirmation of the feeling he'd had for some time that he might be gay. Highly related to this, he also discovered he had a tendency to fantasize about being bent over various surfaces and taken -- versus being the one doing the throwing a hot guy over the nearest stick of furniture. These personal revelations would have been more than enough to upset the freaking apple cart of his life, but he was a freaking Winchester, so not so much. His family was all about truth and justice. Narrow minds and discrimination had no place in their moral code, and neither his parents nor his little brother were hypocrites enough to adopt a new worldview because Dean had decided he played for the home team.

No, what sent his family into a frenzied meltdown was the other thing. Homosexual? 'That's nice, sweetheart, what do you want for dinner?' Homo sapien? Cue the freakout. Yeah, Dean hitting puberty had pretty much marked the death knell for any hopes he was anything but a normal guy. Shouldn't have been a big deal (see calm acceptance of sexuality), except, yeah, a Winchester. Not to mention a Campbell on his mother's side. Both families had been full of superheroes since the first dude put on a cape a century ago and called himself Hero. (No, Dean wasn't too impressed with the originality of that name either, but, fortunately, while his family might have heroed-out at around the same time, they had no blood ties to Mr. Obvious.)

Personally, Dean was mildly disappointed, but not at all surprised by the passing of the final deadline for going homo herois. Been a long shot at best since 99 percent of those who got powers developed them long before their ages hit double digits, let alone before they grew pubic hair. Hell, Sammy had been flying around the nursery before he could freaking walk. But that one percent did exist and apparently there hope sprung eternal in his family's hearts. Fuck.

Hands were wrung, eyes filled with tears, soft words of denial and regret where whispered, etc. etc. when the sun set on his emerging sexual maturity. Really kind of hard to imagine them taking the news he had some sort of terminal disease much differently (at least it matched up pretty much perfectly with every reaction the cinematic delivery of such news received.) Hell, for a few minutes he'd thought Grandpa Samuel was going to have a stroke or something as he ranted and railed about Dean becoming Hostage Boy for every damned two-bit villain and wannabe bad guy out there.

Dean had waited for someone to defend his ability to take care of himself. Ten years later he was still waiting. Twenty-two freaking years old and he'd set foot on a university campus for the first time a month ago. Sure he'd gotten his bachelor's in psychology online, even had a few master's courses under his belt because what the fuck else was there to do when his freaking family had him basically locked up in some proverbial tower to keep his virgin ass safe from all the – insert vague wave of the hand here because they _always_ did that when he protested he wasn't some helpless damsel – evil out there. Anyway, he was technically a graduate student, but no way was John and Mary's precious baby boy setting foot out their door alone. So he'd had to wait for his stupid baby brother to get old enough to go to college, too.

Dean glared at the world and resolved to kick his brother's ass once more for the grievous crime of being four freaking years younger as soon as he got back to their dorm room. Yeah, their dorm room. Fuck. But that was the deal. Dean either lived at home or he roomed with Sammy. Could a brother die of humiliation or what? He'd diapered the bitch! Looked after him, told him stories, held and comforted him when they waited for Mom and Dad to return from the latest battle against (insert villain of the moment here.) And now the stupid Sasquatch (Dean didn't care what his real hero name was, Sam was and always would be Sasquatch to him) was _his_ freaking baby-sitter. Because (back to inserting vague, but totally evil, Dean, we swear, villain name here) was waiting to pounce on Dean the moment the heroic Winchesters took their eye off their dear, sweet Dean. He could just vomit.

'Dear, sweet' his ass. He was totally a BAMF. Wasn't a fighting skill he hadn't mastered, he had an IQ every bit as big as his brother's (even if he was more modest about throwing the genius label around) and he could absolutely, completely take care of himself! "There you are!"

Dean yelped and spun around, his ever so manly … chest heaving. Okay, so he had one fatal weakness. He could absolutely, positively kick the ass of whatever villain tried to (insert horrific threat to his virginity, limbs, life, whatever here), but he had a problem dealing with … people. Hey, tower! Locked up! Isolated! Okay, okay, so they never let him go outside to play alone and he was ridiculously shy. He was really badass in his head. Totally! And he really could maim someone with a blade of grass if need be … if he could manage to look them in the eye. Case in point, Sam's stupid sidekick, Flashlight Boy. Fine. Beacon. Because Brady Fordman could light up a room, and not with his personality. Yeah, lame, but see sidekick. Oh, fine, like any other stupid superhero he could still fly, had enhanced senses and near invulnerability so not totally lame, but he was still freaking Brady and that was high enough on the lame scale to be … lame.

"Damnit, don't do that!" Dean snapped and managed to glare at the jerk's nose. Had only taken a year or so before he'd managed to almost look Sam's BFF in the eye.

"Sorry, princess, I forgot how easily you startle."

Like fuck he had, but Brady seemed to delight in tormenting him. Probably had something to do with Dean's resounding 'hell, no' when the jerk had tried to talk Dean into dating him back when they were all still in high school. All right, so it had been more resounding in his head. In reality it had been more of a squeaked 'no' and retreat (he had not fled no matter what Sam said!) to his tow- … room. And he'd slammed the lock into place with a decided 'fuck you' attitude. That counted, right? Especially when he'd been a badassed senior and Brady had only been a lame freshman. "Go away." In his head he growled it like Dad would, but he'd never managed to pull off the whole badass-gruff voice.

"Nah, we have a date."

They so did not! In this reality or any other! At least not outside of Brady's warped, stalkeresque imagination. But before he could say anything the big douche had taken firm hold of his arm and started walking toward the dorms. "Prophet, Captain Freedom and Laser are battling Dark Angel downtown, I thought we could go watch it all on the big screen in the lounge."

Translation – Winchesters minus one (two when counting the lame sidekick left behind, and Dean so did) off to save the day from their archenemy and it was time for a There's Villainy Afoot Dean Lock-Down.

Adrenaline still surging from Brady sneaking up on him and worry for his family made Dean feel bolder than normal and he opened his mouth to protest. He thought what he was going to say would have been epic. Stuff about how he was a grown man and all douches could keep their hands off! That he could take care of himself, but why did he need to? They all had secret identities and he was more in danger of being hit by lightning than attracting the attention of a supervillain. And damnit to Hell it was time for Dean Winchester Independence Day! Yeah, epic. Except his sucky life chose that moment to … get suckier.

Bright light flashed and he was getting ready to rip Brady a new one for losing control of his powers in the middle of the campus, except it wasn't Beacon crap. Instead six guys stepped out of it. Minions. Goons. Henchmen. Muscle. What the fuck ever. Apparently the hand-wavy worthy badness had finally caught up to him.

"Run!" Brady said giving Dean a shove one direction while he took off another. If Dean hadn't been so busy obeying, he'd have spared the energy to roll his eyes. All these years of protecting him from vague, theoretical villainy and when it finally popped up his protector needed a time out for a costume change. It all seemed a lot slicker in the comic books.

Dean had taken the time to memorize the layout of the entire campus in the first days of coming here and didn't run blind. His first thought was to get the goon squad away from the other students who could not only be hurt, but might also overhear unfortunate things about super versus secret identities. At this point he actually hoped they were after him since if Brady's ID had been blown and Beacon was the target … well, Brady liked to grandstand and civilians weren't usually even his second thought (one of the big reasons he was still stuck as someone else's sidekick.) But yeah, no worries on that front, since a quick glance over his shoulder proved all six had stuck to his heels. Peachy.

Good news on that front was they weren't gaining ground on him, meaning they probably really were muscle for hire and normals like him. Really good news. He ducked around two buildings, then came out in a seldom-used loading dock area for the old student union. No one around. Perfect. Time to kick some ass.

He ran up the dock ramp, then did a backflip so he landed in the middle of his pursuers. A couple of quick punch-kick combinations took out half of them before they could react. Took a few more seconds and a couple of fancier moves to put the other three down, but Dean was used to sparing with his superhero brother. Normals never had a chance. Even easier than he'd always figured it would be. Take that hand-wavy threat.

He turned to head back to find his 'protector' and well, fuck. Dark Angel stood blocking his path with his black wings unfurled. Impressive sight, but Dean still might have tried running the other way, except DA had an unconscious Beacon hanging from a fistful of his uniform. He wiggled the 'pointy fingers of doom' on his free hand and smiled, the 'surrender or the douche gets it' ultimatum depressingly obvious.

Well, fuck. He decided bluffing was his best bet. "I never liked him anyway."

The vision shields of the villain's cowl masked the color of eyes, but somehow made his gaze even more intense. Eyes. His kryptonite, and he broke out in a cold sweat, from both the effort of not looking away and trying to appear very bored. Dark Angel grinned, "Understandable, but you're a Winchester."

Fuck. He was. Damnit, it wasn't fair! "Fine," he flat out sulked. "But I've had a hard day. Is it okay if I just pass out now?" Because, hey, kryptonite.

"Feel free."

"Awesome." He let his eyes roll back and darkness closed in.

*

Castiel tossed Beacon aside. One had to love the 'nearly' part of nearly invulnerable. Such a useful loophole and he'd quite enjoyed the .05 second it had taken him to squash the annoying sidekick. He walked over and easily scooped up his unconscious prize, then disappeared without so much as a glance at his fallen minions.

He'd told them not to underestimate their target, but apparently they'd not been listening. Castiel had never suffered fools lightly, and at least he didn't have to pay them for their incompetence. Damned hard to find decent help these days and he was getting really frustrated with having to do everything himself. Really cutting into the benefits of being a supervillain since the heroes got police back-up for free while he had to pay salaries to unreliable, morons. That had pushed him into deciding it was time for a dramatic change. Yes, he could afford it, but it was the principle of the thing.

Even though Gabriel had advised against it (Think of all the management headaches, baby bro) at the last family dinner, Castiel had decided he'd put off taking over the world for far too long. Yes, he knew Gabriel was right – the seizing power was always the easy part. Long-term maintenance would be difficult and tedious; however, if _everyone_ was under his control, he should finally be able to get some decent lackeys. Or at least ones that wouldn't embarrass him half to death every single time he sent them out to do his bidding. Was that really so much to ask?

He sighed and reappeared in his lair, then gave the insurance policy in his arms a careful look to make certain he was still unconscious because Castiel was _not_ an idiot or careless. His senses told him the young man was rapidly coming around, so time to tie him up. Might as well make him comfortable though. After all, this was going to be something of a long-term arrangement.

He settled the son of Captain Freedom and Laser on the sofa, then snapped light-weight, but indestructible manacles of his own design around Dean's wrists and ankles. His prisoner secured, he stepped back and waited for the usual nonsense to begin. Standard captivity banter could be almost as tedious as incompetent minions.

It began the way he expected it would. The flutter of long eyelashes as consciousness was reached (very long eyelashes, this one had Laser's eyes), the darting glance around the room while trying to remember what had happened, and cue the blustering bravado. "Are … my family?"

He blinked at the soft tone and the downcast green eyes. Both were signs of fear, yet the manacles kept him snuggly bound hand and foot – like they were monitoring chemical reactions consistent with an impending attack. Interesting. "You aren't going to pretend you don't know why I kidnapped you?" This was a total violation of captor-hostage protocols.

The eyes didn't lift to glare at him, but he caught a flash of irritation amidst the green. "Is there a point?"

"No, but it is SOP in these situations."

"My family?" he said, his voice firmer.

"Fine. I left before they arrived."

The tension bled out of his prisoner, as if that was all that concerned him despite being at the mercy of Dark Angel. "Standard diversion SOP?" Some of the snark his parents liked to throw Castiel's way during their battles had entered Dean's tone, but it remained unnervingly soft.

"Yes." Silence. No questions, no witty banter. Nothing. "Don't you want to know my plans for you?"

He shrugged. "You're either going to kill me to make them pay for thwarting you so often or use me as leverage to stop them from interfering again. Given you've managed never to kill anyone despite the destruction you cause, it has to be because you actively work to prevent hurting anyone, so it's the leverage thing."

Castiel fought the urge to blink again. He'd always known his concern for the lives of others was a weakness, but he'd gone to great pains to make certain the lack of deaths or serious injuries looked like pure good fortune. No one, including Dean's family, had ever assumed anything else and considered him a murderer-to-be. Not going to happen. Even if he had to blow his reputation to insure it. Not thrilled someone had already figured this out, he opted to change the subject. "Don't you want to know how I knew to kidnap you?" A stupid question, and he realized it as soon as it left his mouth since if Dean didn't have an appallingly accurate idea about it, he would have gone for the standard 'why have you kidnapped an innocent college student like me?' opening.

A soft huffing sound indicated either amusement or more irritation, Castiel wasn't certain which. "You tapped into the city's security camera archives and figured out who never appeared in them when my family was fighting you. Tedious, but I've nailed down the ID of more than one supervillain the same way."

This time Castiel couldn't prevent the blink. It _was_ tedious, but it also took genius-levels of programming skills and creativity to develop the search program. However he didn't doubt the boy's claim for an instant. Too many of the villains who focused on Lawrence had ended up in prison of late for any other explanation than their real identities being discovered for it to make sense. "I don't live here." It might seem strange for a non-resident to focus on Lawrence, but it had strategic importance so he tended to menace it for the same reason the damned Winchesters protected it – control the heartland and control the country.

"I figured."

Otherwise he'd have tracked Castiel down by now, too. No doubt he'd turned his attention to finding the man behind all of Castiel's elaborate safeguards. Something told him he'd acted none too soon in depriving his enemies of this one's resources. "It seems I find myself with the most dangerous of the Winchesters in my care."

Dean made a scoffing sound that said loud and clear that was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. Apparently his 'guest' had no idea whatsoever how remarkable his achievements were. Castiel had to practically bite his tongue to stop himself from correcting him.

An awkward silence fell over the room, and Castiel knew he was rapidly losing control of the situation. "Enough chit chat," he said internally wincing at his own descent into standard bravado. "I have a call to make. Sit up while I call your troublesome parents."

Castiel had deliberately placed the sofa so the video camera focused on it, and by the time Dean obeyed the 'heroic' Winchesters had a good view of his prisoner.

"Baby." Dean finally looked up at the sound of his mother's voice.

"I'm sorry, Momma," he said softly.

"Has he hurt you?" Laser asked the tears in her lovely eyes obvious despite her cowl.

"No, he won't." The firmness of Dean's answer was drowned out by the menacing growls of his father and brother. Twin versions of 'if you lay a hand on him' snarled out from the screen, and Castiel was grateful for the distraction from a mother's fears. He was far too close to assuring her Dean was right and he would not only _not_ hurt him, he would defend him against those who would. It was, after all, the least a good host could do.

"Yes, I know," he said aiming an unimpressed stare at Captain Freedom and Prophet. "You'll rip my arms off and beat me to death with them or something trite like that. I consider myself menaced. Now, for my equally trite demands, I have plans in motion. If you wish to see him again, you will resist your usual annoying impulse to interfere."

Some more posturing followed, while Laser merely held her son's gaze. Castiel knew she was the true threat, her anger focused and determined despite her fear for her beloved son, who looked close to dying from shame. "He was magnificent, Laser," he heard himself say without making the conscious decision to soothe either of them. "He took out all six of my men without risking anyone else's safety." Appalled with himself for weakening his position, he abruptly ended the call.

Dean's gaze had dropped again. "She … they'll find me."

Yes, she would. Within hours. "It won't do them any good. Once I leave, I'll activate a phase-device that will put you in a holding-dimension of sorts. They won't be able to reach you for two months or be certain what I can do to you while you are imprisoned. The manacles will release once you calm down so you'll be comfortable enough. I-"

With a soft hum, Dean's bonds released and he flung himself forward. Instantly they reactivated, but momentum carried his prisoner to the control panel where he slammed against it with enough force to trigger the phase-device. They were both trapped for two months.

*

Dean landed on the bed with surprisingly little force given the strength of the being who had thrown him into and across the room. Guess he'd proven his theory Dark Angel wasn't a killer, because fucking up whatever he'd thought was big enough to kidnap him for had to rank pretty damned high on the 'piss him off all to hell' list. Had angered the arch-villain enough to put the manacles on manual override and truss Dean up like a proverbial Thanksgiving turkey. Supposed tossing him in here was a kinky, adult version of a time out.

Dude didn't have anyone to blame but himself. Yeah, Dean had figured out the manacles himself because he was the inventive force behind most of the stuff the other Winchesters carried around in their utility belts (he'd designed those, too), but DA had done himself in by not being able to resist the all too human impulse to look at what he was talking about. One quick Zen chant and ta da, scheme foiled. Kind of made the two months looming ahead of them all sorts of awkward, but he'd take that any day over getting used to saying, "All hail Dark Angel, Emperor of the World." Or at least he assumed those had been the stakes because DA had been headed in that direction. That or going legit.

Yeah, it was an option. Another thing Dean and his family argued about endlessly. They all had this huge blind spot when it came to Dark Angel. Even Mom refused to put the facts together and see the patterns. But Dean could. Not only was the dude not a killer, but he was getting bored with the whole super-villain gig. All added up to one grandiose scheme to rule the world or letting his better nature win out. Dean had two months to make certain thwarted plans didn't get a makeover and the world got a retired-super-villain or, even better, the biggest BAMF of a super-hero to ever take on the task.

And hey, all Dean had to do was get out of these restraints and a locked room, then overcome twenty-two years of terminal shyness. To start. Awesome. The very thought made him want to go into panic-overdrive, but he had the feeling, if nothing else, he had to get out of these damned things himself or lie here in 60-days' worth of 'he so didn't want to think about it.' Oh, hey, bright-side there, he'd die of thirst long before that. So yeah, calm the fuck down and escape enough to at least put the en suite to use.

Okay, things around his wrists and ankles would be calibrated to at least restrain the more super-powered members of his family so for all they felt like bands of soft silk, he wasn't going to muscle his way out of them. Tried anyway so he didn't have to do some sort of 'head-desk' banging for overlooking the obvious, but no, not gonna break. And for the record, ow.

Having almost dislocated both wrists, he studied them for any weakness. Been there, done that when he'd first come around, but maybe he'd missed things in the whole 'hey, I've been kidnapped by the most feared villain alive' trauma. Except having never bought into the 'evil incarnate' theory, he'd not been all that traumatized so no, he hadn't missed anything.

Yes, he knew he'd passed out, but that had been a strategic decision born of a shy man forced to speak one-on-one with a super-powered stranger who would have zapped him into an unconscious state that would have left him a hell of a lot more disoriented than giving into his desire to find the fastest way out of an actual conversation he could. Anyway, that was a big no on the finding a lock to fiddle with or any other visible sign these things would ever come off at all. Might have to change his handle from Hostage Boy to Bondage Man.

Right. Humor. Damn, he was badass in his own mind. So, how would badass-Dean get out of this mess? Only thing he knew for certain was the damned restraints had some sort of biofeedback mechanism in them. If DA was tapped into it, he might be able to use the connection to his advantage, but the dude was pretty pissed right now.

Deciding to let him cool down as much as possible, Dean concentrated on trying to come up with a better plan for another few hours. He let his bladder dictate how long he could wait, then he mentally crossed his fingers and tried to pull his hands out of the bands instead of trying to pull the rings apart. As he expected, no give, but this time he kept pulling intent on seeing if dislocating both thumbs might help free him.

The pain made his eyes water and a clamy sweat break out. His body trembled, the bones began to shift and … the door slammed open and Dark Angel stalked into the room. "Enough!" he roared, the power of his hands as well as the manacles suddenly restraining Dean's wrists.

For a moment the pain overrode his own nature and Dean managed to look into his eyes, then the heat of a blush swept through him. He had to look away and bit back a whimper. Instantly the manacles separated and even loosened.

"How badly have you injured yourself?" DA demanded, pulling him up.

Dean didn't resist his strength – pissing him off further wasn't at all the plan – and let himself fall against his torso, head coming to rest on DA's shoulder. "'m okay." It wasn't a total lie. DA had stopped him before he'd broken or ruptured anything, but his hands hurt like a son of a bitch.

Arms tightened around him almost as if in an attempt to shield him from the fiery pain. "Why would you do something so foolish?"

Dean gestured in the direction of the bathroom, then had to fight the need to moan.

"Idiot," he muttered, the sound almost a soothing rumble resonating through his chest. "Can you manage by yourself?"

The question carried the implication DA would help if need be and Dean blushed even hotter. Couldn't do more than nod.

*

Castiel returned to the 'guest' bedroom at the same time Dean emerged from the bathroom. The foolish boy's face was pale from having to use his abused hands. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the bed.

Dean obeyed, and Castiel set an ice pack in each hand. He hissed as the cold pressed against his injuries, but a moment later some of the tension eased from his shoulders and face. Ice was the ultimate pain killer. No need for it to do the job all by itself, however.

He retrieving two ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet, then filled a glass of water. Playing nursemaid to his hostage. Not a line he'd ever expected to put on his resume, but given the Winchesters would no doubt locate this place and be waiting when the dimensional portal gave way, it was a wise choice. He clung to that as his reason for tending to the boy even as he helped him take the pills and held the glass of water for him as he drank them down. Watching the column of Dean's neck move as he drank made it increasingly hard to think of him as a boy or to ascribe his own motives to pure self-preservation.

The fawning interest in Laser often displayed by the supervillain community had always struck Castiel as hopelessly clichéd even as he acknowledged that she was an extraordinary woman, but he was not one to appreciate the charms of a woman. However, he found her son breathtakingly beautiful. Almost with desperation he searched for the loutish features of the father and brother he so disliked, but no, there was nothing of them about him. Worse, as irritating as it was to be defeated by a 'normal,' the intelligence and bravery Dean had displayed in doing so made him all the more irresistible to Castiel.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour."

Dean nodded, and Castiel stalked back the way he came. A soft voice stopped him before he could retreat across the threshold, "Thank you … Dark Angel."

Dark Angel -- a name given to him by the press due as much to the color of his wings as his chosen side of the law. It had never bothered him, but he found he hated the sound of it from those full, lush lips. With a thought he banished both the physical manifestation of his wings and exchanged his costume for jeans and a t-shirt. "Castiel," he corrected him. "My name is Castiel."

*

Far from what his honorary uncle liked to call an 'idjit,' Dean had always known he was attractive – Brady preferred the term 'stud-magnet' then wondered why Dean shuddered at the thought of even letting the douche touch him. He also knew that his shyness marked him as submissive and made him pure catnip to certain men. A week into his imprisonment, Dean still didn't know what to think about Dark Angel – Castiel – apparently numbering among that sort of man.

Even through secondhand accounts he knew Mom had used the 'you want me so don't hurt me' diversion more than once. Sam had even used it on Beelzebub that one time last year. Dean didn't have to work the angle. Being himself with all the blushes and lowered eyes was doing the trick. Except he knew he didn't need to do any of this to stay alive. Castiel wouldn't hurt him, would even make certain nothing happened when the Winchesters stormed the place in seven weeks. So he should make himself scarce. Hide out in his room, eat meals after or before Castiel did, etc. Hell, it wasn't even an 'avoid the supervillain' thing, but his usual reaction to any non-family member who tried to say more than two words to him. But Dark Angel had always fascinated him. And now that all the blurred photos and theoretical ideas had morphed into Castiel with his gravelly voice and vivid blue eyes, he couldn't manage to stay away even if he was fairly certain he was going to self-incinerate from all the blushing. Especially in the morning after a night spent dreaming about what that stubble might feel like against his skin.

Damnit! He was freaking twenty-two and still a freaking blushing virgin who seemed to be edging closer and closer to getting horizontal with his family's archenemy. Mom would kick his deflowered ass from one side of the country to the other right after she roasted Castiel with her laser-vision. Then they probably would lock him in a _real_ freaking tower. And throw away the key. Shit.

So yeah, it was settled. He'd hide out in here with one of the five million books in Cas' library and … Cas? He'd given the brooding hunk of this cheesy bodice ripper a nickname? He was so screwed.

*

Castiel was not accustomed to deprivation. He'd always had the intelligence, funds and power to get what he wanted. As did all the members of his family. However, unlike his older brothers, he had always known the value of restraint and had never let his passions derail his plans as Lucifer and Michael were prone to doing. Hence it was Dark Angel, not Beelzebub or Chonae, who was most feared despite the body count the others could claim. His sister, Ananchel, had rejected the 'family business' entirely, while Gabriel – the Trickster – never quite stepped over the line from hedonistic anti-hero into something others labeled supervillain. But whether they embraced their family heritage or walked their own paths, none of them had ever failed to get what they wanted.

Until now. Because Castiel wanted Dean Winchester. Even ached for him. And while rape was a line he was as unwilling to cross as murder, it was becoming increasingly clear such a total lack of consent would not be an issue. Dean obviously wanted him, too. But he was also Castiel's prisoner, one who still wore the manacle rings because it seemed imprudent to leave a Winchester totally unrestrained.

He shook his head. He'd never believed in lying to himself. Trying to do so now was an indication of how off-balance his 'guest' made him feel. He kept the young man in restraints because he liked how they looked on him. And the fantasies they inspired. But it was dangerous. Dean himself had isolated them together and ensured no matter what happened they could not play out some 'Superman swoops in to save Lois Lane from Lex Luthor's clutches' scene. It gave him a level of power over the young man's fate he had never sought. Over anyone.

Yet in one way the situation bordered on amusing. Whenever he tried to do the right thing and avoid Dean's company, he was sought out. And when Dean came to his senses and avoided his captor, Castiel weakened and went in search of him. They'd almost collided in mutual pursuit when it was time for dinner, only to sit in silence while they pretended to see nothing but the bowls of stew in front of them.

It almost startled him when Dean finally broke the silence. "How … how were you going to do it?"

His mind immediately flashed to an image of Dean bound to a bed, writhing beneath Castiel's body, but he suspected that wasn't the 'it' Dean meant. "Do what?"

Pointing out there were various interpretations to the question seemed to make him blush. "Take over the world."

"Oh, that." He really shouldn't tell him. He might actually get out of this mess leaving him free to try again, but discussing the merits of his plan seemed preferable than trying not to imagine what Dean's face looked like when he came. "I was going to buy up all the international debt, then foreclose."

"On the United States?"

He shook his head. "That would mean war with any nation I moved against. I was going to simply buy them all."

"But … that would cost …"

A number most would consider theoretical. It was however, at least for a Novak, "Pocket change." Power of all sorts came from being the first ones. It was from their DNA that all 'homo herois' had descended and they alone could manifest wings.

For once those incredible eyes were fixed on him. They were also wide with shock, making them an even more vivid green. Then Dean seemed to remember he was too shy to look anyone, let alone an evil megalomaniac, in the eye, and his gaze dropped. It made Castiel harden and press uncomfortably against his inseam. "I knew you had to be rich, but. …"

"There is little that goes on in finance that does not result in at least a small profit for me." The same was true of his family. Since long before humans developed the writing needed to log such transactions. "But the sum involved did require a certain amount of time to process. I'd hoped seeking you would keep your family from noticing a certain lack of depth in a series of secondary distractions I had arranged."

He had no doubts Dean was far too precious to his family for them not to _want_ to devote their entire beings to rescuing them, but the Winchesters were an annoyingly heroic lot with a tendency to sacrifice for the greater good. And there were three of them.

"You do realize if you own the world you have to run it?"

Castiel frowned at the near-echo of Gabriel's words. "Corruption and inefficiency annoy me." An apt description of most governments. He merely wished to put an end to all of it, establish a better system, then slip back into the shadows. He said as much.

He expected a snort and 'good luck with that' to also mirror his favored sibling's comments. The soft, "No, I don't think that's it," surprised him.

It should anger him. No one could possibly know him well enough to pierce a falsehood even Castiel half-believed. Yet this beautiful young man could see him clearly despite being unable to look at him. "And what other reason would I have?" he demanded his voice sharp enough to make Dean flinch.

"Don't be mad at me, Cas," Dean whispered. "I just know you're better than you pretend to be."

Cas? Not even Gabriel had thought to give him a nickname and he had practically raised Castiel. "My apologies. I am not accustomed to being questioned."

"That include not questioning yourself?" Again the green flashed upward before retreating. Funny how that was the moment he remembered kryptonite was green.

"No." Not quite the truth, but he had to know if this boy truly understood him better than Castiel understood himself. "So what purpose beyond world domination might I have?

Dean licked his lips, a feature almost as beautiful as his eyes. Obviously nervous, but brave despite the crippling shyness, he found his voice, "You have to know the plan can't work."

He said nothing, although he had to admit there were a few flaws in it despite the fact he had been on the verge of implementing it.

"But … you'll have the debts paid off before your power grab fails."

And 'no refunds' would definitely apply. He'd stabilize the world economy and gain nothing but the same humiliation Lucifer endured every time one of his own grandiose schemes failed. No wonder Gabriel had smirked so broadly when Castiel had told him his plans – no doubt his brother had nearly been giddy with glee over the years of mockery he would be able to inflict on his long-suffering little brother. How could he have not seen this?

And damn this beautiful boy, he knew the answer. "You want to save the world, Cas. Not control it."

His stomach fluttered in an odd fashion and, no longer hungry, at least for food, he stood. "And what about you, Dean Winchester? Do you prefer to deceive yourself about your true motives?" he asked walking around the table. He leaned down and whispered into Dean's ear, "Or do you pretend not to know how such an … intimate conversation will end?"

He could see the erection tenting Dean's jeans, see Dean's jaw working as he struggled against the answer. He considered backing away, but as he was known, perhaps he too knew. Consent would not be given if asked, but if this … connection they had went both ways, Castiel could accept what instinct told him. A single 'no' would stop him. He had to believe Dean knew that, but he said nothing. Still Castiel gave him one last chance. He brushed his lips against Dean's ear. "I am not a rapist."

Dean swallowed. "I know."

Not consent, but not a lack of it either. Could the son of his archenemies give him more? Or should he demand Dean abandon all claim to deniability? No, that would be the true rape. Dean needed him to play a part to end this dance. "Very well." He pulled Dean out of the chair and up over one shoulder.

*

Dean's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest as his back hit his mattress. He knew he should stop this. Or at least end the pretense that he didn't want this to happen, but he couldn't find the words. Instead he let a being his family considered evil incarnate strip off his shirt, then secure his wrists to the headboard. Such a coward, but he told himself he wasn't struggling because Cas might hurt him, then almost laughed. He'd given Dark Angel a nickname, a sign of affection, and used it even as he tried to spin some sort of rape fantasy.

Fine. He wanted this. Wanted Cas to touch him, to take him. He tried to say something, but he didn't know how to find the words. Didn't know how to tell anyone, let alone Dark Angel he didn't have a clue how to keep from running away from … everything. Especially himself. He pulled hard on the manacles, taking comfort in how thoroughly they trapped him. Read that about bodice rippers once. Someone had said they translated as 'I just _can't,_ so force me.' Made it so easy to give himself over to the kiss capturing his lips.

It was not quite his first kiss, but it was hard to kiss someone when he broke out in a cold sweat every time anyone but his family got within five feet of him, let alone look them in the eye. In the past, such contact had made him run. "So beautiful," Cas murmured in his ear, the gravel of his voice and the heat of his breath making Dean shiver, then seek his lips again. And again. And again.

In total defiance to the roles they were supposed to be playing and the freaking awesome restraints preventing him from fleeing, they kissed for a long time. Deep, hungry kisses inter-spaced with playful nips and touches he couldn't stop from labeling almost romantic. Did a lot to help take his mind off the slow loss of clothing going on, although the rub of warm skin against warm skin proved equally distracting in a totally awesome way.

He closed his eyes to focus on all the new sensations, but they snapped back open at the press of slick fingers where no one but the family doctor had touched him before. "Cas. …" he whispered, suddenly thinking it might not be a good idea to hide his lack of experience, but Cas pressed a kiss to his lips.

"I already know," he murmured "Everything about you screams of it."

Dean blushed, wishing he were the badassed dude in and out of bed he always fantasized about being. He thought kindness might kill him in that moment, and Cas gave none. Or all.

"Open your eyes!" His voice snapped, startling Dean into obeying. He stared up into vivid blue eyes and heard, "See me, Dean, see me as I take what no man ever has or can again."

He shivered, trapped by those eyes as Cas pushed into him. The thrust matched the man, firm, unyielding, yet restrained enough to do no more than burn. Dean whimpered, not from the mild pain, but from the pleasure it caused. Still couldn't look away. They stared at each other as Cas began a slow, deep rhythm that quickly took Dean to dizzying heights and held him there for what seemed like hours of sensual torture.

Each time a shudder or squirm allowed his eyes to close, Cas stilled, then kissed him when he open them again. Sweat covered his body and his arms began to burn, to distract from everything else he wanted to feel, and … "Please," he whispered.

Cas stopped again – damn him – and tilted his head to give him a curious look.

"I need … to touch you." The manacles released so quickly Dean didn't know if his own admission or a mental command from Cas freed him, but his arms wrapped around the same strong, lean torso his legs gripped.

At his touch, Cas gasped softly, then shifted the angle of his thrusts. Sparks seemed to burst inside him, and Dean began to writhe, clutching at Cas' shoulders, sounds he never knew he could make tumbling from his lips. He came with a scream to match the waves of ecstasy shuddering through his body, his release a hot, wet gush between their bodies. "Cas?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from use.

He had stopped moving when Dean had tumbled over the edge and his gaze felt hot and hungry on Dean's skin. Oh, more looking at each other shit. "See you," he murmured.

Cas thrust once, twice, then his own cry of release sounded through the room. Was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen or heard.

*

The stamina of his kind allowed Castiel to match the sex drive of a young man who had finally discovered how good it could be with another person instead of his own hand, but to his amusement, it was a close thing. Especially since their frequent intercourse swiftly burned away Dean's shyness, leaving him not in the least bit intimidated about asking for what his body craved. This particular morning, it was Dean's back to the wall, his legs wrapped around Castiel's hips, so his own weight impaled him more deeply.

Castiel easily supported the naked body, enjoying the sight of Dean writhing against his own clothed form almost as much as the hot, snug heat Castiel thrust into. He no longer required Dean to keep his eyes on him every moment they moved together. While he still loved gazing into the lovely green depths, he could now do so over dinner or during a lazy evening's conversation. Almost for that gift alone, he could not regret the sex even while knowing he played a fool's part in this drama.

Dean stiffened in the way he did the moment before climax, and Castiel caught his lips in a deep kiss, letting their sounds of mutual release mingle in their mouths. Neither of them moved for a full minute after seed had splashed over Castiel's shirt and deep inside Dean's body. Then a smile twitched onto the young man's face, and he whispered, "Wow."

It made Castiel laugh and hug him tightly enough Dean squeaked. "Wow, indeed," he said, helping Dean lift up, then stand.

Dean wiggled his hips and wrinkled his nose. "I'm gonna leak again," he pouted, looking utterly adorable. It was in that moment, Castiel fully understand how truly fucked he was. 

In love. He let himself think the words for the first time. In a mere two weeks' time, he had fallen in love with the son of his deadliest enemies. Was it really possible? Yes, he had admired the boy's bravery, skill and intelligence from almost the moment they'd met. And no, Castiel did not share his family's tendency toward sociopathic disorders, but he had never felt particularly bound by laws created by those with only their own power and wealth in mind. Nor did he consider himself a sentimental man, but he'd enjoyed the delights of Dean's beautiful body, then climbed out of the bed they slept in to enjoy hours of laughter and intellectual stimulation as they'd discussed anything and everything.

God help him, they'd even started cooking meals together. A fool. He seldom had cause to apply the label to himself, but he never shirked from it either. He had lit a match with lovely green eyes and it had burned him to his soul. He brushed his lips across the crinkled nose and made a decision. "There is work to be done in my lab."

A stricken-look crossed Dean's face, and Castiel kissed him again. "I promised you I would do nothing 'nefarious' while we were trapped within this place, did I not?"

Dean nodded.

"Then trust my word and come with me." 

"Okay," Dean answered, picking up his draw-string pants and t-shirt.

Knowing the boy would follow, Castiel went to his lab. Having intended to sacrifice this particular stronghold to his plans, he had stripped it of anything he hadn't updated at other facilities, but he'd merely wiped the data from the fairly new computer. He'd assumed his prisoner would use the games on it to amuse himself while he waited to return to the real world and Internet access. All of which meant he had an hour or two of tedious work of recreating files ahead of him.

Fortunately, he never forgot anything, so it was an annoying, not insurmountable task. He sat down and began keyboarding. "I dislike loopholes when they are not to my advantage," he said, when Dean's lovely backside settled onto the computer desk. "And 'nearly' invulnerable is definitely a loophole."

He'd tried coming up with a force field belt. At Dean's snort, he protested, "I saw it in a comic book, and it seemed worth exploring." Except not so much. A portable power source capable of running such an energy field simply did not last long enough for practicality. Other ideas had proven equally flawed – mostly due to lack of coverage. Any barrier could be circumvented. "In the end, I was forced to concede that no one is meant to be completely invulnerable." Some might call it God's plan. Others balance. He preferred not to dwell on such things and had merely abandoned the project without a backward glance. Except…

His fingers continuing to fly over the keyboard, he glanced at Dean. "This world can lay claim to many a so-called Superman. But no 'Batman' exists." No, not true. "Well, none that survived more than a few hours."

Many humans had tried to emulate the fictitious Caped Crusader. After all, if super-beings existed, why not the score of human heroes who had donned masks? Answer was simple enough – reality included heavy caliber weapons and gunmen who knew how to hit an all too human target. Didn't stop the attempts. Castiel could not help but admire the poor doomed souls even as he rolled his eyes at their stupidity. And he'd seen the echo of that courageous foolishness in every move Dean had made to fight off his attackers. Thank God for the boy's shyness. Had he the ability to meet another's gaze, he'd have been long dead, and a world without Dean Winchester would be a poorer one indeed.

Dean must have seen at least some of those thoughts in his face, because he blushed, but very pointedly did not look away. "Cas, I …"

He stood and cupped the beautiful face in his hands. "I did not bed you to set you on the path of your own destruction." Yet he had. There was no denying it. The boy had learned to look Dark Angel himself in the eye. What was a mere thug with an automatic weapon compared to that?

"I won't die, Cas." A foolish promise from a heart too noble to allow another to feel pain. Damn him anyway.

"No, you won't," he answered, then captured the lips still swollen from their last claiming. When he finally released them, he whispered, "I will not allow it."

All of his experiments had failed to achieve total invulnerability, but time and time again he'd matched his own range. He sat back down and continued his task until he had every detail input. Once again he looked up into green eyes. Kryptonite. Except Castiel was not Superman in this tale. Instead he was Lex Luthor while Dean stood poised to play the hero's role.

He'd seen a version of Superman once in which it was obvious that Luthor loved Clark Kent, who had done nothing but lie to him while calling him a friend. More than once Castiel had wondered what they might have accomplished together if only a few words of truth had passed between them. He guessed it was time to find out. Because this Luthor was about to put Superman in his suit. Right after he gave him the cure for kryptonite.

He pushed a button and the image of a suit appeared on the monitor. It would cover Dean from head to toe in more the manner of the garb worn by Spider-man than Superman. Breathing was an issue as were a few other problems, but, "We have six weeks left," he said. "Between the two of us, we should be able to turn Hostage Boy into the greatest hero to ever walk this Earth."

*

The cool smoothness of the lab table against his back provided a delicious contrast to the warm heat enveloping and impaling Dean. He came with a shout, his hands clutching Cas' broad shoulders. Despite his best efforts not to do so, his thoughts skittered over the certainty in two weeks' time he would lose this. Lose this man.

As he always did, Cas recovered first and cleaned Dean up. Took such good care of him. Like he was something precious. Not just some pretty bauble to be cast aside when something newer and shinier came along, yet. … "Cas?"

"Yes?"

"Why haven't you asked me to stay with you?" From the start Cas had treated their project as the creation of a hero. Yet it could be the beginning of villain as well. "I could be a kick-ass minion."

Cas chuckled. "You are no one's minion, Dean. Least of all one of the fools that cling to the shadows of Dark Angel's wings."

Given how quickly Dean had taken them out he had to admit the dude had a point. "So you need a better class of minions. Maybe even a sidekick. So why haven't you asked?"

Cas finished dressing, then touched Dean's face with such reverence it made his heart pound. "Because I haven't the strength to hear you refuse me." His lips brushed against Dean's. "Or worse, allow you to destroy yourself by accepting."

"Cas-"

"I am your first, Dean. The first to know your body. The first to see the full glory of your gaze. That carries a responsibility to make certain you never mistake your feelings of attachment for anything more."

He heard the words Cas wasn't saying, heard his warning that he would never say them because he would not use Dean's dependence on him to his advantage. If Cas asked, Dean would say no. They both knew that. But doing so would destroy them both. How could a man who made such decisions be called a villain?

Once again Dean considered the research waiting back home in his own lab. And he made a decision of his own. Or at least enough of one to keep his options open. "Suit's pretty much done. Mind if I do some tinkering on my own project?"

Cas kissed him. "This was always intended to be your home, not mine." He didn't ask about the project. Instead he returned to his task and gave Dean privacy for his own.

*

Castiel ran the final tests on the suit with a week to spare. It was all theoretical, of course. They lacked the materials here to make it. Very expensive materials. A platinum microfiber would run through the entire garment. No way to turn it into anything law enforcement or military personnel could ever use. Even the smallest of forces garbed in it would bankrupt all but the wealthiest of nations. But Castiel could afford it.

He completed the files with a list of where Dean could find each component needed and his authorization to claim it. Once done, he transferred it all to an encrypted thumb drive, then hung that on a leather cord. He slipped it around Dean's neck, gave him a kiss on the nose and whispered, "Hostage Boy is dead. Long live …?"

"Hunter."

Castiel smiled. It suited him.

*

With three days to go until they rejoined the 'real world,' Dean finished his project. But should he use it? Dark Angel was dangerous. He _knew_ that, knew he had to be captured and forced to answer for his crimes. Knew it was his job as a Winchester to make certain that happened, but. … He was in love with Cas.

Sure he knew every single expert – including Cas himself -- would tell him he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, but he knew one thing, he hadn't mistaken 'lack of harm' for kindness. Cas pampered him, indulged him and maybe, probably, at least he hoped so, had kind of fallen for him, too. But they were living in some fantasy world. Outside of this place, Cas had planned to and still could take over the entire world. He did believe Cas when he said the plan had revolved around fixing a few things then moving on, but Dean didn't think it would go as peacefully as Cas seemed to think. Besides, an absent even benevolent emperor was still an emperor. Seriously bad idea to mix Cas' level of raw power with major political power, especially ultimate political power. No, Dean couldn't let it happen, but … God, he loved Cas so much. How could he play a part in destroying him? But how could he not?

He couldn't decide, and time was slipping away, until he was down to ticking off items on a mental 'last time' list.

Dinner, bed, and he couldn't stop the tears when he woke up and knew he'd never sleep in the man's arms again. Sort of suffered from leaking eyes off and on through the entire morning. Couldn't manage to eat much of either breakfast or lunch, but he insisted they make both just to have a few more memories of hanging out in the kitchen as they cooked, then cleaned up afterwards.

With three hours to go, he begged Cas to 'make love' to him one last time. Neither of them had ever used that phrase before. Had always been fuck, have sex, fool around or any of a dozen other ways to put it, but Cas neither looked shocked nor hesitated to lift him in his arms and carry him to their bedroom.

Dean watched him as intently as he had the first time although his tears kept making Cas look blurry. Started sobbing when he climaxed and Cas held him, did his best to kiss away the tears, but that only made Dean cry harder.

Then Cas started talking, "It will be all right, Dean. I won't fight them. I'll surrender and you won't have to watch any of us get hurt." Said that part with an actual straight face even though they both knew his mother would do her best to kill Dark Angel no matter what Cas did or didn't do. Even repeated it like saying it might make it true. "No one will get hurt."

Dean made up his mind. "No, they won't," he whispered, his hand cupping the back of Cas' neck. He drew him down into one last kiss. Mentally crossing his fingers, he triggered his ring when their lips parted.

*

Castiel could not move, yet he slowly became aware of movement. He'd felt a moment of heat, a sizzle across his nerves that flirted with pain, then nothing. Dean? Where was Dean? Afraid for him, he forced his eyes open and found himself in a fireman's carry looking down at a body he knew well.

Speech was beyond him, but Dean seemed to sense he was awake. "Built a neural paralyzer into my ring," he said. "Been working on it for a couple of years, but I only knew how my family's physiology worked." He made a soft sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "Kind of careless with your DNA. Gave me what I needed."

Including the lab. Castiel had known the odds were high he would not like the final results of Dean's 'playing,' but he'd never demanded a reciprocal promise against Dean's own scheming. Foolish, but he could not regret it. If Dean possessed something to protect himself against one of his kind, between it and the costume, he would never be helpless again.

They entered the lab in question, then Dean punched a series of numbers into the control panel. A section of the floor slid open to reveal a coffin-sized chamber. He lowered Castiel into it. "Thing's Winchester proof," he said. "Not even Sam's going to know you spent all this time with me." He made another one of those laugh-sob sounds. "Gonna drive them nuts wondering why you never did anything when you went to all this trouble to distract them."

Yes, he supposed it would, but the amusement value of such a thought did not distract him from the enormity of what Dean had done. Its intended purpose reversed it would serve as a means to imprison his family. And he'd risked building it when at any time Castiel could have discovered what he was doing.

"But don't get any bright ideas. Thing will disintegrate five seconds after you climb out, so don't try to leave until you can move fast." Brilliant, and not a fool. "Paralysis should wear off in a couple of hours – gave you a triple jolt to make sure you stayed put. Release is by your right hand."

Green eyes stared down at him for several moments, Dean whispered, "Bye, Cas. I love you."

He could do nothing but watch the opening close. Not even say, 'I love you, too.'

*

Dean cleaned up himself and the bed, then spent the remaining time eliminating the slightest sign he'd not been alone for the last two months. At ten seconds and counting, he took cover behind the living room sofa. Right on schedule, his stomach did a weird flip as Dark Angel's stronghold shifted back into the real world.

Winchesters entered from three different directions. Sammy came through a window with a crash of glass. Dad ripped the door off the 'garage,' while the main doors blew up in a ball of fire. Damn, Mom was _pissed._

Light flashed around the room as Laser searched every inch of the place within one second, and God, please let her not find Cas. Because Dean was far from certain she wouldn't disintegrate him even when he couldn't move a muscle. She didn't find him, but she did find Dean.

The sofa shot across the room and she pulled him into her arms. "I'm all right, Mom," he whispered into her golden hair. "I'm all right." A damned lie. Nothing but a damned freaking lie.

*

Dark Angel vanished from the face of the Earth. Most assumed he'd met some well-deserved end while plotting to rain down death and destruction on the heads of innocents. For a time Castiel amused himself reading blogs speculating on the specifics, but the theories swiftly became too absurd to hold his interest. Although a few did get it right. Dark Angel had 'died' because Castiel was sick of him.

For all his posturing about his brothers, he'd never truly accomplished anything more than they had. Less if 'super-villain' effectiveness was measured by destruction of lives and property. So no more Dark Angel, may he rest in inglorious infamy until people found a better bogyman to scare themselves over. But it did beg a question – what to do with the rest of his existence.

First, as Dean had assumed he would and with full knowledge of what he was doing, he paid off a generous chunk of the world's international debt. Had the benefit of totally distracting everyone from any Dark Angel speculation, beyond that, he didn't care.

After that, well … He thought about consulting his family, but Anna would suggest something like getting a mundane job while his brothers would seek to draw him into one of their ridiculous schemes. Well, all but Gabriel. He would want to make his 'baby bro' his sidekick and go off on adventures with no true purpose other than their own enjoyment.

None of it appealed, yet neither did sitting around playing billionaire. He needed more than idle luxury. And after five months of trying to feel otherwise, he still needed Dean.

*

Six months after Dean's return to the real world an envelope arrived at the house. Addressed to Dean, it contained the deed for Dark Angel's stronghold. The authorities had been all over it, but nothing had remained beyond some fused components and a home. A luxurious one, but a home nonetheless. And not one that could be confiscated since the paper trail indicated Dark Angel had been doing some squatting on the holdings of Novak, Inc. There was also a document stinking of legalese that said taking possession of the property would negate all claims of culpability for his confinement. Read like the perfect 'pretty please take this bribe and don't sue us' maneuver. Perfect distraction from the reality of who the Novaks were and a slick piece of work, but then most things associated with Cas were. Only exceptions where when his innate goodness tripped him up.

He shook his head and thought about what came next. To his surprise no one had insisted Dean drop out of school, although he knew they'd wanted him to. Knew they wanted to lock him up in that fake tower he'd always griped about so they could keep him safe from any and all harm. To help soothe them, he'd moved out of the dorms and back home and devoted himself to acting exactly as he had before Cas had grabbed him. Well, not exactly. He still didn't like hanging out with strangers, but he could look anyone in the eye and not flinch.

The 'see nothing wrong here so relax because I have shit to do' plan had worked well enough that his grandparents had gone back to their own home and he was down to one baby-sitter. Usually Sam since he'd been so pissed at Brady he'd refused to work with him again so Prophet lacked a sidekick. Mom and Dad didn't like that. Felt this line of work demanded partnerships, and while they were hyper-protective of Dean, it didn't mean Sam wasn't also the apple of their protective eyes.

Dean didn't like it either and had been quietly trying to fix it. Was a new hero working solo in St. Louis – just a couple of minutes commute for the super-set – and she seemed a perfect fit for Sam. For his part, little brother seemed intrigued by her, but was unwilling to leave Dean alone for much longer than it took to use the rest room. Made hooking Prophet up with Frost problematic, so he'd started considering a way to at least get Sam and Jessica Moore in the same place. Yeah, he'd figured out who she was. Hadn't told anyone or recorded the info anywhere – he never did – but it always seemed like a good idea to know who was behind what mask.

In any case, Sam had refused to so much as go on a road trip to see a Cardinal's game, thwarting both potential partnership plans and Dean's need for enough freedom to assemble his costume. Sure, Dean could have ditched his brother just as he could have given his mother and father the slip during their turns looking after him, but he couldn't do it without upsetting everyone, and he wanted to prove a few things before the confrontations hit the fan.

The letter changed things. Cas had wanted him to have their place. It made him tear up despite knowing they'd all been waiting for him to have some sort of PTSD episode, and now Sam thought Dean was finally breaking down when their parents were on the other side of the freaking planet. Stupid Sasquatch grabbed him and started hugging the stuffing out of him. "What can I do?" he asked after Dean had let the freaking cuddling go on for far too long for any protests of 'I'm okay' to sound anything like pure bullshit.

He refused to label the sound he made a 'sniffle,' and the lack of an alternative was conveniently ignored. "Take me flying." Given he normally protested long and hard about anything that parted his feet from the ground, Sam looked understandably surprised, but he manifested his costume, then scooped Dean up.

The view breathtaking and knowing his brother would keep him safe, Dean couldn't figure out why flying used to terrify him. Or why it no longer did. Took him some time, but with a word here and glance there, he slowly manipulated Sam into taking him back to the stronghold.

The damaged caused by his concerned family's entrances had been repaired and a security system installed, but the palm print scanner responded to his touch. Inside things were equally restored and the lab had been enhanced far beyond what he remembered.

"I don't like this," Sam said, his hand closing on Dean's arm. "He's obviously been here, and we need to go."

Dean shook his head. Shouldn't have stopped Prophet from slinging his all too human ass over one shoulder and booking, but Dean was the big brother and Sam had always respected that. One of the many reasons Dean adored him. Suddenly the weight of secrets between them was too much, and he couldn't stop himself from whispering, "He was here with me, Sammy. The whole time."

Sam stared at him. "But that's not possible. We searched."

Such a long story, and he knew he'd be bawling through most of it, but there was another way. He took hold of his brother's hand and guided it to his face. "I know you never use your powers on me, but I want you to."

Sam frowned, but after a moment Dean felt the tingle of Prophet's energies shifting through his mind. Dean carefully pushed him away from any of the graphic details with a 'brain bleach' warning (hid Cas' face and name behind the same warning), but let him see enough to know what had happened here. By the time he'd finished, Sam had him wrapped up in his arms again. "God, Dean."

"I need to know, Sammy. Was it real?" Dean already knew the answer, but it was important Sam did, too, and it was part of Sam's powers. In addition to the occasional vision of the future, Sam could read memories, and compare them to the energies of a place so he could sift through tricks of the mind to reach the truth.

The hug tightened, and Dean felt a moment's guilt for so blatantly manipulating his brother. Sam would feel how much he loved Cas as well as the love Cas felt for him. Feel their pain at the separation. And Dean knew his brother loved him. Even more than he hated Dark Angel or feared for Dean's safety. The outcome was never in doubt. Sam sniffed, then asked, "What do you need me to do?"

Time to go 'shopping' for his super suit.

*

It had taken an act of will greater than Castiel had ever believed he possessed not to spy on Dean. At least not directly. Some things he put together from news reports, others from indirect sources, but he knew Dean had moved into their home, which, though highly defensible, was a comfortable commute to his university.

Hunter made his appearance a few weeks later, and he'd proved every inch the glorious hero Castiel had known he would be. And more. Dean had somehow worked his neural paralyzer into the gloves of the costume along with some flashy light effects. Made it look like he was taking down his super-powered opponents with some sort of energy-bolt ability. He had a more hands on approach to human obstacles.

Not surprisingly he favored that sort of target. A true crime fighter versus a super-human battling other super-humans while lessor villains escaped notice. He couldn't fly of course. Speculation ran about some sort of injury. Perhaps a disfiguring one since no part of his face was visible. In any case he used acrobatics and cables to move about the city, while an armored '67 Impala served as his 'Batmobile.'

Castiel was currently watching a news clip of it driving away only to vanish into the haze of a cloaking effect when Gabriel dropped down onto the sofa beside him. For a few moments he watched the news with Castiel while munching on his ever present bag of some chocolate or other. Finally Gabriel asked, "You ever planning on getting off your ass and claiming your boy?"

"He needs more time."

"To do what? You've given him more than enough to figure out he really loves you instead of it all being a creepy kidnapper-kidnappee bond thing."

Yes, he agreed. Dean had been given enough time, but not Hunter. "He needs to know he can do this. If he does not develop that certainty, he will always wonder if he has merely exchanged one set of protectors for another."

"Wow, look at you all grown up and aware of other people's emotions. Kind of gets me right here." Gabriel patted his chest, then frowned. "Oh, wait, maybe that's heartburn."

All Gabriel-speak for 'love ya; proud of ya, baby bro.' He answered the sentiment, "Thank you."

He sighed. "So how much longer do I have to put up with your mopey butt?"

**Six months later**

Hunter watched from the shadows as the bank robbers emerged from Chase Mutual. Three of them were moments away from SWAT taking them down, but the fourth had a young woman positioned too close to his body for any of the tactical team to risk a shot. Nothing he couldn't handle, but once he hit the ground he'd confuse the issue enough he'd need to take out all of them himself. Times like this, he really wanted to rethink the whole team-up with Sammy thing, but no, he could prove himself a billion times, but as long as he was in the mix, everything would be about protecting him instead of dealing with the bad guys.

So time to go to work. He tossed a smoke grenade to confuse things, then leapt from the rooftop. A tuck spin, let him control the fall enough to make a perfect landing behind the hostage-taker. One straight-finger jab to the nerve clusters made the gun hand useless, and Dean shoved the woman back into the relative safety of the doorway.

The biggest threat neutralized he spun and ducked to take out the legs of the nearest lackey. Quick backflip, punch took out number three before he could aim through the smoke. Four shot him – twice – before a punch in the face ended things. Stung, but the motion neutralizers in the cloth protected him as usual. Minor bruising at most.

And on that note, he was outta here. He fired a line from his wrist band, then road the rewind back up to the rooftops. Put a few blocks between himself and the crime scene before he settled in to wait for the next crisis. "Nicely done," said a voice above him.

Voice was filtered, but nothing could alter it enough to fool him. Cas. His heart began to pound but he stayed still as he watched him descend. Was wearing a costume similar to Dean's but the belt buckle formed a 'G' instead of an 'H.' "Thanks, I try." He gestured toward Cas' shoulders. "Aren't you missing something?" Like wings. Big fluffy dark ones.

"I've out grown an affectation or two." Yeah, Dean had always figured he'd never really needed the things to fly. "And I find myself equally tired of working alone."

"So you're in the market for a sidekick?"

Cas shook his head. "A partner."

"Might be interested." He held out his hand. "Hunter."

Cas took hold, shook it, but didn't let go. "Guardian."

Dean grinned beneath his mask. More angel shit. "Nice to meet you, but you're kind of holding my hand here."

"Yes, it makes it easier to do this."

Didn't surprise Dean much when 'this' turned out to be a fast teleport to his – their? – bedroom. Presumptuous, but then these costumes protected against injury not obvious erections. He banished his with the same thought to unstable molecules the supers used. And oh, yeah. 

Slide of naked body against another, lips possessing him, fingers preparing him, then finally, God, finally the push into his body. Yes, oh, yes. "Missed you," he moaned. "Missed you so damned much."

"And I you, my love."

And so it was that the Mid-west became home to three of the greatest super-hero teams to ever don costumes – Captain Freedom and Laser; Prophet and Frost; and, the most mysterious but effective team of all, Hunter and Guardian.

  


[](http://pics.livejournal.com/anne_higgins/pic/0000q5ps/) **End **[](http://pics.livejournal.com/anne_higgins/pic/0000q5ps/)****  



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